Kaywily

A pause. Then, through the hiss of a dying world:

“I see your light.”

The Last Frequency

KayWily’s hand hovered over the transmitter key. Hope was a dangerous thing; it had a shelf life of about three seconds after you last ate. But the voice kept coming, naming coordinates that were only two blocks away.

“—anyone out there? This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.” KayWily

The antenna on the roof had been dead for eleven years, but tonight, static crackled through the old ham radio like a secret clearing its throat.

S.O.S.

The voice was young, terrified, and impossibly clear.

KayWily looked out the grimy window. Two blocks north, a single candle flickered in a high-rise. A pause

For the first time in a decade, someone smiled. — A piece by KayWily.